#Poetry:”What the fuck do I know about #Love?”

Italain verison: https://loscrittorevolante.com/2021/05/09/poesiache-cazzo-ne-so-dellamore/

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What do I know about love,

In the end?

It’s right,

I’m not the only jerk to believe it,

or the only one who does not lie to himself.

I’m the only one that loves,

while everyone has decided to hate.

What do I know about love?

Who knows.

Yet there is something in the heart,

something that’s good for you,

something that hurts.

And as if you were not born for it,

with this feeling.

What do I know about love?

I’m the only jerk who tries it.

It is true, after all,

I am ignorant,

who wants to try again,

something he has lost.

Is it true, the fuck do I know?

Probably when I hug someone,

what I have in my heart,

it will be just a projection.

No?

Fuck do I know, actually?

I’m just a jerk, am I not?

Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t talk about it,

even if that’s what poets talk about.

We are hopeless,

probably the world makes fun of us,

love does not exist: it is only in art, music and poetry.

And obviously we don’t deserve it,

we can only know the suffering,

and jealousy.

But we don’t deserve it,

obviously who is worse than us, yes.

I think that many poets, in their life,

have often thought:

“Fuck off”.

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